


love it when you call

by nightswatch



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-05
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2018-01-14 16:28:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1273270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightswatch/pseuds/nightswatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras gets a call from a guy he's never met before in his life. Or at least he's pretty sure that he doesn't know anyone called Grantaire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	love it when you call

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this while I was watching the Oscars and it's completely ridiculous, but it would have been a shame not to publish it.

Enjolras slowly snuck down the hall to get himself another cup of coffee. He knew he shouldn’t, because midnight had come and gone and he needed to get some sleep at some point, since he knew that Combeferre would be able to tell if he didn’t.

Combeferre, however, was fast asleep on the living room sofa, covered in hand-written notes, snoring softly. Enjolras was pretty sure that he’d wake up as soon as Courfeyrac stumbled in through the door, which was most likely going to happen within the next couple of hours unless he’d just gone straight home with Joly and Bossuet or whoever else he’d gone out with.

Courfeyrac had tried to convince them to come out with him for hours, Combeferre had politely declined and retreated to his room together with a stack of textbooks, Enjolras had ironically wasted an hour trying to explain to Courfeyrac that not everyone was done with finals and that he really couldn’t waste a minute on anything that wasn’t studying. Courfeyrac had eventually headed out without them, not without telling Enjolras that he seriously needed to take a break, of course – “Have fun for an hour or two, Enjolras, watch a film, have a drink, have a lot of drinks, get laid or just fucking _sleep_. Anything as long as you stop studying.”

Enjolras had spent all evening with his nose in his books, as he’d wanted to, with some coffee breaks in between, pretending that the writing in his textbooks wasn’t starting to blur right before his eyes and that his back wasn’t aching uncomfortably and that he didn’t stare at his bed longingly way too often.

But really, it was only three days until his last exam, he only needed to get through a few more days and sleepless nights and then he could relax for a couple of days. Or he could take a nap right now, just for thirty minutes maybe, then he could study for two or three more hours, and then squeeze in another few hours of sleep.

Enjolras set down his coffee on his desk, careful not to spill anything on his notes as he had earlier, and went to lie down for a bit, tugging off his shorts on his way over to his bed, leaving them right where he’d dropped them. He hadn’t even realized how exhausted he was until his eyes fluttered shut. He didn’t bother with tucking himself in, it was too warm anyway, and maybe it was because of that that he didn’t seem to be able to fall asleep, or maybe it was because his mind kept wandering back to all the work waiting for him.

Maybe he should have gone out with Courfeyrac after all. If he was honest with himself, he knew he needed the distraction, even if it was just for a couple of hours. Just to clear his head.

By now, Courfeyrac had probably had a couple of drinks and had moved on to one of those clubs Enjolras avoided like the plague because there was always instantly someone trying to get in your pants if you even so much as breathed. Courfeyrac was most likely in the middle of a dancefloor right now, grinding against a handsome stranger, and – no, no Enjolras definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that kind of thing right now.

Admittedly, Enjolras didn’t care much about sex, didn’t boast about his latest conquests as loudly as Courfeyrac often did, but he had found it an adequate distraction in the past. He’d hardly even finished that thought when he’d already let his hand slip past the waistband of his boxers, sighing quietly. Maybe a nap wasn’t exactly what he needed.

It took only a few seconds to convince himself to forget about that nap, but he didn’t really get to go about the alternative either, because his phone started ringing. He almost ignored it, almost, because he knew it might be Courfeyrac, and although Enjolras was never consciously worried, he was always somehow waiting for a call in the middle of the night because Courfeyrac had been arrested for public indecency or something similar.

He quickly jumped off his bed and picked up his phone, registering that it was an unknown number calling him. “Hello?”

“Jehan, listen, I’m really sorry, like, as sorry as I could possibly be, honestly, I’ll owe you so much for this, but I have no idea where everyone went, like, they were just gone all of a sudden, and I don’t know where my phone is either and this super nice dude let me borrow his for a sec, so listen, can you maybe come pick me up because I don’t know where my money went, I assume it’s where my phone is, and as I said, I don’t have the slightest fucking clue where that one fucked off to, so I’m a bit stuck here and I don’t want to walk across town, so can you please, please, please with a cherry on top, come get me?”

Enjolras blinked a few times, trying to make sense of what he’d just heard. “Who is this?” he asked eventually.

“Dude, it’s Grantaire,” the guy at the other end said. His voice was low, a little husky, and completely unfamiliar.

“Who?” Enjolras was pretty sure that he didn’t know anyone named Grantaire.

Enjolras had trouble hearing his answer over the laughter and music in the background. “Jehan, how much pot did you smoke, holy shit.”

 _Oh_. He seemed to have missed that the first time. “I’m not Jehan,” Enjolras explained slowly. He didn’t know anyone called Jehan either.

“You’re not?” Grantaire asked, sounding quite amazed by that revelation.

“No, I’m not,” Enjolras replied, smirking even though he felt like he should be annoyed rather than amused.

“Shit, I must have got the number wrong. Sorry, man. Who are you anyway?”

“I’m Enjolras,” he said curtly. “Well, good luck finding Jehan’s actual number.” Whoever Jehan was.

“Yeah, thanks, it was a pleasure talking to you,” Grantaire said cheerfully. “You have a nice voice.”

 Enjolras blushed for absolutely no reason at all. It took him a second to reply. “I, um, thank you?”

Grantaire chuckled. “Boy, do you sound flustered.”

“I’m not _flustered_.”

“’Course you’re not. Bye, Enjolras.”

“Goodbye.” Enjolras hung up, staring at his phone in bewilderment for a couple of seconds, then he put it down and sat back down at his desk, determined to go back to work right there and then, his earlier preoccupations forgotten.

He didn’t even make it through half a paragraph before his phone started ringing once again. It was the same unknown number as before.

“Yes?” he answered, wondering why he’d even picked up. He could have just ignored it.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire shouted, “it’s you.”

“It’s me. _Again_ ,” Enjolras confirmed, wondering where this was going. Maybe Grantaire had somehow managed to dial the wrong number again. He didn’t sound completely wasted, but definitely slightly inebriated.

“Jehan’s not answering his phone,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras could almost hear him pouting.

“Okay,” Enjolras said, not quite sure what to do with that piece of information.

“I don’t know what to do. I’m about 500 miles from home, I don’t have any money and I’m not even sure where exactly I am.” There was a crackling noise. “Hey, excuse me, what is this fine establishment called?” More crackling, then Grantaire was talking to him again. “So, apparently I’m at the Corinthe, which is great, by the way, I mean, the food is atrocious, honestly, they should put up a warning sign or something, although I suppose when you’re drunk enough you don’t really care anymore, but except for that it’s fantastic. Anyway, what the hell am I supposed to do now?”

Enjolras frowned. He did know where the Corinthe was, it actually wasn’t too far from their apartment and he’d been there with Courfeyrac once or twice, but still, this was hardly his problem. “I don’t know?”

“Enjolras,” Grantaire whined, “you sound like you’re a reasonable guy, think of something, the dude who let me borrow his phone looks like he’s about to kill me… no bro, I’m just kidding, you look like an angel, anyway, Enjolras, how do you think I can get enough money for a cab home, because phone guy said I can make as many calls as I want, but I don’t know Joly’s number, so-”

“You know Joly?” Enjolras interrupted. Maybe he did know Grantaire after all. Or maybe he’d at least seen him before.

“Assuming it’s the same Joly you know, then yes. Anyway, Enjolras, help a friend out.”

“You’re not my friend,” Enjolras grumbled.

Grantaire sighed dramatically. “You have hurt me deeply.” God, that guy almost sounded like Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac, one of his best friends who was out tonight as well, and if he were in the same situation and neither Combeferre nor Enjolras answered their phones, he’d hope that someone else would help him out, too, no matter who it was. And Grantaire seemed to know one or maybe even several of his friends, so he wasn’t a complete stranger. “You’re at the Corinthe,” Enjolras repeated.

“I am,” Grantaire said. “And I’ll probably be here until they throw me out. Then I’ll sleep in an alleyway and get eaten by rats. Not a nice death, if you ask me.”

Enjolras almost asked him if he always talked that much. “Stay where you are, I’ll be there in ten,” he said instead and hung up. He’d just walk down there, give the guy some money for a cab and go back home. No big deal.

He quickly pulled his shorts back on, hoping it would still be warm outside, as it had been for days, tied his hair into a messy bun, grabbed his wallet, his phone and his keys, and wrote a quick note for Combeferre, saying he’d left to help out a friend, Grantaire’s words not his, so he wouldn’t be worried if he woke up while Enjolras was gone.

The streets weren’t empty despite the late hour, there were students stumbling out of bars and stumbling into others, celebrating that they’d survived exams, and Enjolras was a little jealous that he wasn’t one of them. But even though he’d abandoned his work for now, he didn’t feel like he needed to get back to it right this second, he was quite content walking down the street, a light breeze promising rain making the too warm air almost bearable.

It didn’t even take him ten minutes to get to the Corinthe, which was packed, loud and stuffy. It made Enjolras want to turn back around and go home immediately.

He looked around the crowded pub, searching for anyone who looked like he was here alone and waiting for someone they’d never actually met. Enjolras could only hope that Grantaire had actually stayed here.

He found him quickly, because Enjolras had, in fact, seen him before. They’d never spoken, but Grantaire had once been waiting for Joly and Bossuet outside the Musain after one of their meetings there. He’d been looking at them through the window, cheeks flushed from the cold, a beanie tucked over unruly dark curls, waving when Joly had spotted him, but Enjolras was pretty sure that Grantaire wouldn’t remember him.

When he walked up to him, though, Grantaire’s eyes widened. “Shit, it’s you,” he said when Enjolras came to a halt right next to him.

Enjolras raised his eyebrows questioningly.

“We haven’t met,” Grantaire said quickly, “I just might have seen you before once or twice. I mean, you probably haven’t seen me before, but yeah.” He shrugged, grinning up at him.

Enjolras found himself grinning back. He quickly remembered why he was here, though. “So, how much do you need to get back home?”

Grantaire’s smile didn’t falter for a second. “Oh, come on, sit down, let’s have a drink first.”

“Absolutely not,” Enjolras said sternly. “I have to get back home.”

“Enjolras, I’ll let you in on a secret,” Grantaire said with a wink, “sleep is for the weak.”

“I have exams to study for,” Enjolras protested weakly.

Grantaire laughed. “Now?”

Enjolras crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, now.”

“So, you came all the way here to throw money at me, _me_ , some random guy you don’t even know, so I can go home and not because you’re trying to procrastinate just a tiny little bit, because you just can’t remember anything anymore?”

Enjolras sighed. He’d already established that taking a break would be the best course of action. He’d already caught himself thinking that Courfeyrac might have been right all along. “One drink.”

“Great, you’re buying.”

“I expected as much,” Enjolras mumbled and slid onto the barstool next to Grantaire.

Enjolras liked drinks about as much as he liked going to nightclubs, so his order was, “I don’t know, something colorful,” at which Grantaire snorted and patted him on the back.

“We’re going to have so much fun together,” Grantaire said cheerfully.

At first they were chatting idly, about their mutual friends, about their hobbies, nothing in particular, then their chatting turned into a heated discussion, but only until Grantaire started ordering a tequila every time Enjolras disagreed with him and he realized that he couldn’t keep contradicting Grantaire if he wanted to make it out of the Corinthe without getting alcohol poisoning.

After his fourth shot of tequila, Enjolras didn’t care about what they were talking about anymore, he also didn’t care about studying, only about the knock knock joke Grantaire was telling him, laughing so much that he never actually made it to the end of the joke and nearly fell of his chair.

When they eventually stumbled out of the Corinthe, arm in arm, laughing, trying not to fall, the only money Enjolras had left were a couple of coins. Definitely not enough to get Grantaire home. “Well,” he said, “I guess we’ll just have to…”

“What?” Grantaire asked, leaning against him heavily.

“I don’t know,” Enjolras whispered. His mind was foggy and he was quite possibly a little bit drunk, despite the huge glass of water he’d ordered before they’d left. He hadn’t felt this good in weeks. “Where do you live?” he asked Grantaire.

“You know where the Musain is, right? It’s around the corner from there.”

“That’s pretty far,” Enjolras said looking in the general direction of the Musain, trying to get his brain to work properly, but failing miserably. He blinked at Grantaire, who was looking at him expectantly. “I live over there,” Enjolras managed to say eventually, pointing down the street.

“Good for you, man,” Grantaire muttered.

“Okay, let’s go,” Enjolras said, beckoning Grantaire to follow him.

“I’m going with you?”

“You’re going with me.” He couldn’t just leave him here, there wouldn’t be any buses for a few hours, and the wind had picked up quite a bit. It would rain soon, too, Enjolras was sure, and there was no way he’d let Grantaire walk all the way back to his own place. He’d get pneumonia and die and it would be Enjolras’ fault.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Grantaire said lowly, following at his heels all the same. “Are you sure this is okay?”

Enjolras laughed and nodded, watching as Grantaire stumbled past him, stopping dead all of a sudden, first looking at Enjolras and then up at the sky. “It’s raining.”

Enjolras walked straight into him, because his brain had been too slow to register that Grantaire had stopped walking. He was close enough to see a raindrop land on Grantaire’s cheek, followed by another one on his nose, and then his lips were on Grantaire’s, which opened eagerly under his. Enjolras wasn’t even sure how it had happened, although he was pretty sure it had been him who’d leaned down to kiss Grantaire, simply because it had seemed to be a great idea in that moment. In retrospect, it really had been.  

Grantaire melted against him instantly and Enjolras had a feeling that Grantaire might be a little more accustomed to kissing virtual strangers than he was. He wasn’t at all hesitant, just pulled him closer, one hand cupping his face, the other one around his neck, pulling himself up, while Enjolras was a little too confused by what was going on to figure out where to put his own.

His arms ended up wrapped around Grantaire, trying to keep him steady, because the world was spinning and he wasn’t sure whether it was because of the tequila or because of Grantaire’s clever tongue or because he wasn’t really getting enough air. In any case, it all felt too good to stop.

Grantaire eventually pulled away, only a little, so they could both catch their breath again, laughing breathlessly. “It’s raining,” he said again, a mere whisper against Enjolras’ lips this time.

Enjolras shivered and looked up at the dark sky. No stars were visible and the rain was starting to come down relentlessly, drenching them in no time, right where they stood, neither of them willing to move.

“This is probably the most bizarre night of my life,” Grantaire mumbled.

Enjolras smiled down at him. “Tell me about it.” He kissed Grantaire one more time, chastely now, tasting the rainwater on his lips. “Let’s go.”

They walked back to Enjolras’ apartment, not caring much about the rain pouring down on them, because they were soaked to the bone already anyway, neither of them saying a word, with their fingers intertwined.

Enjolras gently pressed a finger to Grantaire’s lips before they entered the apartment and Grantaire nodded silently. They snuck inside, toed their shoes off, which presented quite a challenge for Enjolras, and tiptoed down the hall to Enjolras’ room, trying to suppress their giggles.

Enjolras felt light-headed, staring a bit too obviously when Grantaire started peeling off his wet clothes and quickly made an escape to the bathroom before he did anything he’d regret.

He stared at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out what had possessed him to kiss Grantaire, a guy he’d literally met hours ago, wondering what to do now. He felt significantly less woozy than earlier, but his mind was still focused on Grantaire and his wet shirt clinging to his torso and his lips and his tongue and–

Enjolras took a deep breath. He’d go back to his room and deal with this like a rational human being. He quickly brushed his teeth and wriggled out of his clothes, padding back across the hall in only his boxers.

He found Grantaire sitting on his unmade bed, wearing nothing but boxers as well, looking about as uncomfortable as Enjolras felt. “So…” he said, jumping up as soon Enjolras entered. His eyes slowly wandered down Enjolras’ torso and back up again, a faint smile playing around his lips.

Enjolras so desperately wanted to get his hands on Grantaire again, he just didn’t know how. “I haven’t done this in a while,” he whispered, wondering if that would send Grantaire running.

“We don’t have to… do anything,” Grantaire said lowly. “Honestly, I really appreciate that you’re letting me stay here. We can just lie down and sleep and tomorrow morning I’ll call Jehan and he’ll pick me up and I’ll be out of your life forever.”

Enjolras really didn’t like the sound of that, so he shook his head. “I want to.”

“Look, we’re both a little tipsy and-”

“I want to,” Enjolras repeated firmly, “if you do, too, that is.”

Grantaire wordlessly held out his hand and Enjolras took it without a second thought, letting Grantaire pull him flush against him, kissing him just as eagerly as he had before, hands resting just above the waistband of his boxers. Grantaire pushed him back onto the bed and proceeded to explore what felt like every inch of Enjolras skin with his mouth, tongue flicking out every now and then, drawing little whimpers from Enjolras – as much as he tried to keep his mouth shut, because he really, really didn’t want to wake up Combeferre. Or Courfeyrac, if he was home already.

Their boxers were soon discarded and Enjolras ended up on his hands and knees, panting heavily already, watching impatiently as Grantaire rummaged through the drawer of Enjolras’ nightstand, which hadn’t been opened in an eternity.

Enjolras soon learned that Grantaire had nimble fingers, opening him up torturously slowly, making him forget that the living room was right next door and that there was no way Combeferre wouldn’t hear Grantaire’s moans and Enjolras’ pleas.  

“Jesus fuck, you’re beautiful,” Grantaire muttered against Enjolras’ neck and tilted his head so he could kiss him, accidentally bumping their noses together, which had them both giggling once more. “Sorry,” Grantaire whispered and kissed him hard before he effortlessly flipped Enjolras onto his back. “You okay like this?”

Enjolras nodded, although he’d usually think this was too intimate, too personal, he wanted this right now, he wanted to be as close to Grantaire as humanly possible.

Grantaire was gentle at first, maybe a little too much so, probably heeding Enjolras’ words from earlier, keeping his thrusts slow and shallow, until Enjolras hooked his legs around him and urged him on, quietly pleading for more. Grantaire obliged, whispering oaths against Enjolras’ skin all the while.

“Enjolras,” Grantaire panted, his breath hot against Enjolras’ skin, “Enjolras, I’m close.”

“’s okay, just…” Enjolras completely forgot about what he’d been trying to say, when Grantaire grabbed a fistful of his damp hair and tugged. “Fuck, Grantaire…”

Grantaire laughed breathlessly and did it again, harder this time, tilting Enjolras head back so he could scrape his teeth along his throat. “You like that?”

“Yes, please, Grantaire,” Enjolras breathed, not even sure what he was asking for anymore. “Again, do that again.”

Grantaire did and Enjolras came with a shout, fingernails digging into Grantaire’s skin, surely leaving marks there, Grantaire following close behind, swearing under his breath, fingers still buried in Enjolras’ hair.

Grantaire was completely still on top of Enjolras for a while, absent-mindedly stroking his hair. “Holy shit.”

Enjolras silently agreed, still trying to catch his breath, heart hammering in his chest.

Grantaire eventually moved, threw his condom in the general direction of the trash can and sighed happily when he lay back down. “The lights are still on,” he whispered, gently nudging Enjolras.

Enjolras nodded. “They are.” He couldn’t care less, he felt boneless and relaxed, and was absolutely unwilling to move and by the looks of it Grantaire didn’t feel any differently. After a lot of silent contemplating and a staring contest with Grantaire, Enjolras eventually slipped out of bed.

He felt oddly detached when he made his way over to the light switch, briefly glancing at his notes and textbooks spread all over his desk before he turned his attention back to Grantaire, who was watching him with a lazy smile on his face, bathed in the soft orange glow of the light filtering in through the window.

“Good study break?” Grantaire asked, grinning smugly, when Enjolras joined him again.

“Hm, best one I’ve ever had,” Enjolras said, humming contently when Grantaire threw an arm around his waist.

“Sleep,” Grantaire whispered, “you can go back to that terrifying pile of books over there in the morning.”

Enjolras didn’t mention that it was almost morning already, only inched a little closer to Grantaire, and fell asleep almost instantly.

When he woke up sometime around noon, Grantaire was still there, not that he could have gone anywhere with how Enjolras had wrapped his arms and legs around him. Enjolras carefully untangled himself, pulled on his boxers and the next best shirt he could find, and quietly made his way to the kitchen.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre were both there, the former looking about as hungover as possible, the latter humming quietly, flipping pancakes, both of them turning to look at him the second he entered the kitchen.

“Look, it’s not-sleeping beauty,” Courfeyrac said, grinning broadly. “I’m so proud of you, princess.”

“Shut up,” Enjolras groaned and flopped down onto the chair next to him. He felt sore and his throat was scratchy and his head was about to explode.

“So, who is this _friend_ you went to help out?” Combeferre asked conversationally. Right, Enjolras had almost forgotten about that sticky note. “Because I assume whoever it was came home with you.”

“You’re both too nosy for your own good,” Enjolras grumbled and snatched away Courfeyrac’s cup of coffee.

“No, Enjolras, I’m just so happy because you finally took my advice and got laid. And it was great. At least going by the way it sounded.”

Combeferre chuckled, the vile traitor.

Enjolras bit his lip, quite certain that his cheeks were turning pink. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize, just tell me who it was,” Courfeyrac said, grabbing his arm excitedly. “Was he hot?”

“Care to keep your voice down?” Enjolras hissed.

“No fucking way, he’s still here?” Courfeyrac asked, looking a little too excited. “Is he still asleep?”

Courfeyrac scrambled off his chair, but Combeferre quickly reached over to push him back down. “You’re staying right here.”

“I just want to take a quick look,” Courfeyrac whispered. “Please.”

“ _No_ ,” Enjolras said, considering throwing a fork at him, just to reinforce his standpoint.

“At least tell me his name.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Fine, his name’s-”

“Grantaire?” Courfeyrac asked, eyes darting to the kitchen door.

Enjolras turned around to find Grantaire standing right there, wearing his jeans but missing his shirt, his curls a messy dark cloud around his head. He waved at them, grinning wryly. “Good morning, I was wondering if I could have my shirt back?”

“Shit, I thought that shirt looked familiar,” Courfeyrac said, eyes wide.

 “Wait a second,” Enjolras said slowly, not too bothered by the fact that he’d apparently stolen Grantaire’s shirt, “you guys know each other?”

“Yeah, we were out together last night,” Grantaire said, tugging his fingers through his hair, “you know, with Joly and Bossuet? And the idiots ditched me.”

“You were gone all of a sudden,” Courfeyrac protested, “we’d never ditch you, you know that. Joly has your phone and your wallet, by the way.”

“Ah,” Grantaire said, “that’s where those went.”

“Can I just ask,” Combeferre piped up, “how did you end up here?”

“It’s a long story,” Grantaire said, grinning at Enjolras, “and I really have to get going, otherwise I’ll be late for work. Again. Courf, can you do me a favor and call Jehan for me? Just tell him to pick me up here.”

“Yeah, sure,” Courfeyrac mumbled and reached for his phone, kicking Enjolras in the shin at the same time. “Why don’t you go give back that shirt?”

Enjolras bestowed him with a cold glare, then marched out of the kitchen and back to his room, tugging Grantaire with him. He hastily slipped out of Grantaire’s shirt, handed it over and reached for one that definitely belonged to him.

“So,” Grantaire whispered, lingering in the doorway, “would it be okay if I called you again sometime?”

“I’m done with exams in three days, call me then.”

Grantaire’s smile was blinding. “I sure will.”

Enjolras, buried under his work again, got a text half an hour after Grantaire had left.

Unknown number: _this technically doesnt count as a call right?? bc theres no way in hell im waiting 3 days to talk to you again_


End file.
